His Christine
by FrozeAngel
Summary: A little oneshot with smutty potential (I'll get carried away there I guess) Takes place in Love Never Dies, just at the beginning of Beneath a moonless sky
1. Chapter 1

She should have known... Maybe she did, she definitely knew all of it, the bizarres that led her, Raoul and her beloved son to this place, the way they were dressed and spoke, even the the quite elegant apartment's furniture had some of his spirit and sense of fashion. Raoul would have noticed it too, he surely would have, if his head wouldn't have been way too clouded by the gross smelling liquids he used to drink nowadays.

He never did drink when they got married but Christine had to admit that she didn't know when her husband had started drinking, only that he did so way too long. She hated all about his drinking, the way he smelled after he came home from a nice round with his so called friends, men who used him, made fun of him, led him into darkness, a false reality he couldn't tell apart from the real one...In his eyes they were still wildly in love with each other like the children they used to be, the children with their dark stories and dancing to some sweet violin tune.

But their love began to fade, far too soon and too quick for a man of Raoul's spirit to notice. Christine was out of love when he stepped over the grand opera's threshold, sure, she did feel some sort of excitement when she saw him again after all these years but there was nothing to be called a skin-deep connection. Not like with _him_ .

After her father died, the little girl was sent to Paris to learn at the grand Opera Populaire, where she met someone who would change her life completely.

The Phantom was the strangest person she knew. The first time they met they barely spoke with each other. The dark room only illuminated by one or two candles was filled by the sounds of his nervous breathing while she continued to look at him, curiously, before she asked him what might have frightened him so much. After a couple of breaths, slowly getting calmer and calmer, he told her that it was her. The young man had a voice like the most seductive angel in a demon's disguise, but how could the girl know.

They spoke, then talked and he treated her the kindest way, when she asked him about his mask he snarled that she didn't have to know and disappeared. When Christine got older, she knew more than understood that the man was hiding something he was too afraid to show anybody, not even her, his student he started to teach how to sing. Except her she didn't know about any other friend he had, but he also didn't seem to care. He liked her for her talent, her kind heart and the warmth she let him feel, and that she looked at him like a normal human, not like the monster he was. And she admired him, his beautiful voice, the way he could make art out of empty air with only his hands and some things of his surroundings. He was as passionate about music as she was and in a blink of an eye, she felt how he and she started to feel more than 'like'. But it was an impossible thing, she knew him way too long and way too good to even think of herself being intimate, not even physically but emotionally, with him.

The girl grew to be a woman with the voice of a siren, admired by many and detested by as many, and reason told her to push away anything she might feel for her tutor. So she did, Christine ignored the way The Phantom fascinated her and drew her towards him, even started to react on the advances of the young Viscounte de Chagny, a charming little boy with loyal, friendly eyes. Even if the woman played her part to perfection, she never really did love Raoul, even after he almost sacrificed his life for her, the reason why she left with him was a complete different matter.

"Oh Christine..." Shivers started a soft dance on Christine's neck and down her spine as she heard his melodious, honey like voice, and she was the bee being allured by the sweetness it left on her lips. "My Christine!" _His_ Christine? Was she ever his? How could he dare to speak of her as his, something he never owned and never would if she would stay strong. So she remembered what he did to her, he left her after their first night and she felt guilty and filthy and used and oh so terribly confused. But her efforts to feel hateful about him vanished as she turned around and looked him into the eye, those eyes she used to adore, those eyes she knew and still was able to look into after she had seen what was beneath The Phantom's mask. And she felt something crack inside her, as he took a step towards her, the anxious, yet hopeful expression on his features, his lips slightly parted to speak to the woman in front of him, the woman he simply was unable to hate.

"In that time when the world thought me dead..."

*~*~ Tbc

Well then dear, what do you think? To be honest this is just a little experiment if my writing abilities are still the same...*blushes hard and sobs silently into pillow* Still I'm very passionate about the Phantom and Christine so I did as good as I could right now! I hope you liked it, if not then still please leave a comment^^


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of his steps resounded from the walls of the gigantic room, which suddenly felt way too small for the fair-skinned artist, as he drew closer to her. She could almost feel his scent on her skin, his presence filled up the whole room, weighing her down, pulling her closer to him.

"My Christine..." He was now incredibly close to her, his different colored eyes looking straight at her, almost staring. Christine raised her chin up so she could return his stare but at the same time she wanted to run, to flee from him, her beloved Erik, her past, the Opera, the flames burning the place which she used to call home down...

/Don't cry, Daae, don't you dare to cry./ she reminded herself, straightening her shoulders and taking a bold step backwards so she could look at his figure wholly. The years haven't been particularly kind to Erik, she could tell, his face seemed even more haggard than ever, and his eyes lost the passionate spark which they used to contain, a fire which used to fill her and warm her.

Nothing had changed in his height, he still seemed like the smooth, dark and intimidating shadow he was back then, even though his shoulders seemed to slouch a bit. The only thing that didn't change was his mask which he still wore, the white, cold imitation of how his face should look. An old memory appeared in front of her eyes, a memory which she thought she had forgotten a long time ago; Erik had been sitting on his organ and composing as she woke up from a sweet tune. She knew that she had passed out again, this had happened quite some times in that time of her life, but this hadn't been a thing which she would've get used to any time soon. "...And in that boat there was a man..." Slowly she sneaked closer to him, looking at him a little bit worried as she felt him tensing up. "Who was that shape in the shadows?" Softly she laid her hand onto his cheek, as if she held a butterfly in it, demanding but afraid to hurt the fragile creature under her touch, the tip of her thumb slightly grazing at the masks edge and she felt the man leaning into her touch, his eyes closed. "Whose is that face in the mask?" And without a warning she pulled away what covered something which should change things completely...

She had been so careless back then, so inconsiderately, and she had hurt her old friend more than she herself would have been capable of.

"Erik..."

A weak smile appeared in the corner of his mouth and she could see he had to hold himself back from tearing up. He hadn't changed at all...

"..In that time when the world thought me dead. My Christine-" He took a step towards her, his body longing to feel her again after all this years, to touch her, to have the sweet scent of her hair fill his nostrils so he could breathe her in and never let go of her again.

In all this years he couldn't think of one word that might have been able to contain the amount of regret he had felt after he had left his beloved angel.

She raised her hand to his cheek, almost as hesitantly as the first time she had touched him, her blue eyes fixed on his to look for any sign of reluctance. But she couldn't find any, and like the first time he couldn't wait for her soft, warm hands to make contact with his skin.

"In that night, just before you were wed..." Her lips slightly parted, a soft blush crept up her neck to her cheeks. She remembered everything, she had never forgotten how they first united, even if it was the only time...


End file.
